


the lounge

by armethaumaturgy



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Banter, Couch Cuddles, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hookahs, M/M, Self-Indulgent, Smoking, bad sanses poly - Freeform, ♥♥
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:21:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29062761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armethaumaturgy/pseuds/armethaumaturgy
Summary: When Horror returned to the lounge, Nightmare was no longer sprawled on the couch alone.Cross sat next to him, cross-legged, and greeted him with a soft hum, teeth wrapped around the mouthpiece of the hose. He was taking a drag, his ribcage shifting under the layers of his clothes; he held Horror's stare long enough that he couldn't resist leaning down over him, after making sure the plate of cookies he'd brought would be safe on the table.
Relationships: Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 90





	the lounge

**Author's Note:**

> i really miss going to hookah lounges with my friends. this is COMPLETELY self indulgent

When Horror returned to the lounge, Nightmare was no longer sprawled on the couch alone.

Cross sat next to him, cross-legged, and greeted him with a soft hum, teeth wrapped around the mouthpiece of the hose. He was taking a drag, his ribcage shifting under the layers of his clothes; he held Horror's stare long enough that he couldn't resist leaning down over him, after making sure the plate of cookies he'd brought would be safe on the table.

Cross moved the hose out of the way to slot their teeth together, his conjured tongue prying its way between Horror's. He allowed it, fighting the urge to smile into the kiss, and as their tongues danced around one another, he blew the smoke right into Horror's mouth. It tasted of mint, and something fruity he couldn't place. There also wasn't much else, at least yet.

The smoke curled up towards the ceiling through the hole in his skull and he licked his teeth when he pulled away.

"You're shit at… at kindling the tobacco," he muttered, wrapping his hand around Cross' where it still held the hose. "Want a hand?"

Nightmare snorted from his spot, watching the two of them with a glint in his eyelight. Of course Nightmare would let others do the work for him; Horror was sure he was the one meant to kindle it in the first place, but since Cross had shown up while he went to grab snacks, he had been promoted to the role he still wasn't good at.

But Horror didn't mind. He settled on the couch, right next to Nightmare, and brought the hose to his teeth. He had the biggest metaphorical lungs, so when he took a drag, the water in the vase bubbled wildly, and his senses were overfilled with the taste of the fruit again.

"Mango?" he asked, before taking another drag.

"Mmhm. You left, so I picked at random," Nightmare said. Horror knew he was watching the smoke as he exhaled it, parts of it curling around one another with the slow exhale. It scratched as it blew past his eyeball, but it wasn't a fully uncomfortable feeling.

"Not… complaining."

It only took four — good — drags for the smoke to thicken. Perfect for Horror's preferences, but he considered covering the coals a bit, for the others' sakes. Then he decided he wasn't about to make choices for them, took another drag and held it as he passed the hose to Nightmare.

Nightmare's fingers held it entirely improperly, twirling the thin metal between thumb and middle finger as if in contemplation before he finally brought it up to his mouth.

"Oh look, it's a party," Killer said from the doorway, his grin wide, and his tone mocking, "And no one invited us."

Nightmare craned his head back against the cushions and exhaled a long cloud of smoke. "And yet you invited yourselves."

Dust peeked out from behind Killer. "We can leave." It was said as a joke, flat, but they could all hear the edge in it.

Nightmare took another long drag and passed the hose to Cross, who floundered for a second, not expecting it. "No, you cannot," Nightmare told them, tentacles unwinding from where they'd been resting over the edge and snaking their way to wind around their wrists, one each. "I forbid it."

Killer guffawed, just as loud as Dust's blush was bright. It was less Nightmare pulling them to the couch and more them gripping the tentacles like they were holding a hand while coming closer. Dust sat squarely in Horror’s lap, as he was wont to. On instinct, Horror’s arms came to wrap around his midriff and he rested his chin on Dust’s shoulder.

Killer, on the other hand, sat on Cross’ lap. Cross grunted, shifting his legs underneath the added weight into a more comfortable position. Killer yanked the hose out of Cross’ hand, much to his surprise. He hacked on a gasp, coughing the smoke out in tiny puffs.

“You’re the worst,” he grumbled, wiping the corner of his eyesocket.

“Yep,” Killer hummed, pleased as the cat that got the cream, and leaned back to drape himself over all of them, legs crossed over Cross’ femurs, body over Nightmare’s lap, and head laid on Dust’s. He plucked the mouthpiece out of the hose and chucked it in the table’s general direction; it clattered against the wood and fell on the floor. “Can’t believe you bother with that.”

Cross huffs, “It’s sanitary.”

“I’ve cum on your face more times than I can count.”

Cross’ face went purple down to his neck, sputtering while the others laughed, and then, when he couldn’t come up with a response, he just smacked Killer’s tibia. Killer simply wiggled to make himself more comfortable and took a drag, blowing it up into Dust’s face.

They settled in, Nightmare stretching his arms over the top of the couch to rest on both Cross’ and Horror’s shoulders. Horror slipped one hand off of Dust’s stomach to run the tips along Killer’s skull. A purr kicked up in the depths of Killer’s throat, his next exhale shaky. Cross leaned over to grab the plate of cookies off the table and balanced them precariously on Killer’s legs after taking one to stick between his teeth.

“Don’t hog the pipe,” Dust said, watching Killer’s content expression as he cracked an eyesocket open. His smile was lazy and a dim eyelight lit up in the darkness of his socket, wobbly along the edges just like his SOUL.

“Fuck you,” he said, deliberately taking another drag, slow and deep, only to blow it in Dust’s face again. Only then did he hold the hose out.

“Thanks,” Dust mumbled, grabbing the pipe and taking a drag only to immediately blow it down into Killer’s face for a change. Sweet revenge.

“If you wanted to shotgun, you should’ve just said so,” Killer laughed, so Dust took another long drag, savoring the taste.

And then, instead of leaning down like Killer so obviously wanted him to, he turned his head to the side and captured Horror’s teeth. He knew they were being watched, didn’t even need to check. The smoke curled in thick puffs around them, and the kiss to rile Killer up turned into something more heated, their tongues teasing each other long after there was no more smoke to share.

“Hot. But you’re the one who said no hogging.” Killer pulled the hose back; Dust couldn’t even be mad. The nicotine and lightheadedness were a heady feeling and he slumped back against Horror’s chest, content to give others some time.

It was short-lived, his hoodie grabbed, and he was tugged down to kiss Killer. He could feel that devious grin of his but swallowed down the offered mango flavor anyways.

“Here,” Cross said, passing the plate over to Horror, who had apparently asked for it meanwhile. It got balanced on Killer’s chest instead of his legs, and Nightmare apparently didn’t trust him enough, because the hose was in his hand now.

Dust grabbed a cookie and held it up to his shoulder, other hand pulling Horror’s back around his waist where he decided it belonged. Horror’s teeth skirted along his phalanges, followed by his tongue as it licked off the crumbs. Horror’s purr was loud and Dust could feel it reverberating through his own ribcage, even if there were four layers of cloth separating them.

“Feed me too,” Killer grinned, stretching an arm to shove it into Dust’s face, because obviously blowing smoke at him earlier wasn’t enough. He missed, though, and hit Horror’s face instead.

“I see you’ve decided to be as obnoxious as you can, today,” Dust said, shoving the arm back down. Even still, he grabbed a cookie and held it to Killer’s teeth. He glared down when Killer bit into his fingers, all too purposefully. “I hate you so much.”

Killer liked his teeth, still with that infuriating grin firmly in place. “You love me.”

“This was supposed to be relaxing,” Nightmare noted, in between the most languid exhales they’d ever seen him do. They all know Nightmare was jesting, because by then, there was a tentacle touching somewhere on each of them — wound between Horror’s fibula and tibia, curled around Dust’s hood and barely hooked into it, around Cross’ wrist, holding Killer steady by his hips — and they were as relaxed as they got, but Killer wasn’t known for passing up an opportunity to tease.

“You know—”

“Please stop ruining it,” Cross interrupted, before he could even finish the thought. Nightmare passed him the hose, as if in reward, and Cross took a drag. There was a heaviness to the taste now, actual weight to the smoke as it filled up his ribcage, as opposed to just the flavored air it had started as.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” Killer huffed. He forced Dust into feeding him another cookie with his eyesockets alone, too lazy to get it himself despite it being so close.

“Bet it was something…. something stupid,” Horror muttered into the crook of Dust’s hood, cheekbone nuzzling against the tentacle that was also there.

Cross exhaled, but only when his sight started blacking around the corners. “And unfunny.”

Killer made a sound, somewhere in the back of his throat, but he couldn’t fool any of them.

“You guys can’t appreciate humor.”

“We can,” Dust said, “Yours just sucks.”

Killer repeated the previous sound, with just as much conviction as the first time.

“Make yourself useful,” Cross told him, bouncing his knee once and, in the process, jostling Killer’s whole lower half, “and knock the coals.”

“Do it yourself, you’re a big boy.”

“I would, but you’re sitting on me. And on everyone else.”

“I’m not sitting. I’m laying.”

Nightmare grinned and held him tighter even as Killer grumbled. Instead of letting him get up, a tentacle rolled the coals around a bit. Cross made an appreciative hum on his next drag.

He sunk back into the cushions, tentacle returning to where it had been wound around Cross’ wrist. Cross took it as a cue to pass the hose, and while Nightmare hadn’t meant it that way, he took it anyways.

He could grumble all he wanted, but the simple truth of the matter was that he would’ve been less relaxed with someone missing than he was with all of them around him. He took a long drag and let it leave his mouth on its own, hiding his vision for a moment. He toyed with the hose between his fingers, and his tentacles subconsciously squeezed around all his boys.

Eventually, Killer would start up again, trying to rile someone up, but until then, Nightmare allowed himself to bask in the silence, only punctuated by their purrs, each one distinctive and unique.

He allowed his own to join the chorus.

**Author's Note:**

> you can talk to me on [tumblr](https://armethaumaturgy.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/esqers)  
> 


End file.
